Abe Sapien and the Case of the Sub Opera Siren
by J. K. Baduini
Summary: A string of near drownings in the basement of the Opera Garnier prompt the investigation of BPRD agent Abe Sapien. What he finds is unexpected, but it's just the beginning. Movieverse, Phantom of the Opera crossover. Final chapter up!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Abe Sapien and the Case of the Sub-Opera Siren  
**Rating:** T, for some language and some violence.

**Summary:** The BPRD is called in to investigate attempted drownings in the lake under the Palais Garnier in Paris, and who better for a mission in a lake than Abe Sapien? But things are not entirely as they seem, and Abe is going to have to deal with something he never expected in the underground lake.

**Disclaimer:** All original _Hellboy_ material belongs to Mike Mignola, though this particular version is Guillermo del Toro's as well. Gaston Leroux wrote _The Phantom of the Opera_, and so technically the Siren is his, though this version of her is respectfully borrowed from my friend Stef.

**Author's Notes:** This is my first _Hellboy_ fic, and also the first fanfic I've completed that I've been willing to share. It is movie-verse, and a crossover with _The Phantom of the Opera._ Enjoy!

* * *

"_You know, the man who rang at the siren's door just now--go and look if he's ringing at the bottom of the lake-well..."_  
--Erik, Gaston Leroux's _The Phantom of the Opera_

* * *

Abe Sapien had always wanted to visit France. He just never thought it would have to be a working vacation. In fact, since this _was_ a working vacation, he suspected he wasn't going to get all that much "visiting" in at all. 

Oh well. At least he'd actually be in France.

Agent Piedra sighed mightily as she flopped into the seat next to him. She looked harried, and as the only person on the team who spoke fluent French, she had every right to be. "The pilot's giving us a hard time," she explained at Abe's inquiring look. "Seems to think it's a bit dodgy not to be landing at any of the major airports." She paused long enough to recline the plush back of the seat before adding wryly, "I told him to sod off, of course."

"Of course. Did you get our ETA?"

"He said twenty minutes," Piedra said. "I think. It was hard to tell with all that whining about having to land at a private airstrip."

"Makes you wonder why our employers hired him," Abe remarked mildly.

"Competitive bidding?" Piedra suggested.

"I hope not."

Piedra chuckled and leaned back in her seat again, covering her eyes with one arm. "Wake me if we die in a horrible fiery crash, will ya?" she asked.

"I'll be sure to." Abe opened the mission dossier on his lap, even though he'd read it before and already knew what it said. It was a bizarre case, and one that called for his talents in particular. According to the brief, the Palais Garnier was having trouble with the lake in the fifth basement, trouble of the watery death kind. Common consensus seemed to be that it was a haunting; Agent Marble (asleep in one of the rear-most seats since the little plane had lifted off outside of Trenton) had jokingly suggested they'd get down there and find the Phantom of the Opera.

Agent Marble was new, and so Abe had refrained from telling him it was just as likely they'd find the ghost of the Opera Ghost as anything else. Stranger things had happened.

So people were dying (or very nearly so) in the basements of the Garnier, and the current owners and managers of the opera house had gotten in touch with the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense. They didn't care what it was; they wanted it out. That was why Agents Piedra, Marble, and Granite were the ones escorting him across the Atlantic--Piedra spoke most of the Romance languages at least a little, and Spanish, French and Italian fluently. Granite was particularly adept at exorcisms, and Marble was a newly discovered medium being trained to handle his abilities without going insane. And of course, who better for working anywhere underwater than Abe? They were a crack team for dealing with a ghost in a lake, and should things turn out to be more difficult to handle then they'd expected, Hellboy and a very fast jet were on call at headquarters. (He'd wanted to come from the outset, but the guys from the Garnier who'd contacted the BPRD wanted their building's foundations to remain intact unless there was absolutely no way to avoid it. His inclusion was out of the question.)

It wasn't long before the private plane had touched down and the team disembarked. The managers of the Garnier were there to meet them, two men and a woman. They looked distinctly relieved that the team from the BPRD had come--and distinctly uneasy that they'd had to be called in at all. Agent Piedra immediately bustled over to them and introduced herself, asking after any changes in the situation that might have cropped up in the time it took them to get to France.

While she kept the three managers busy, Marble, Granite, and Abe unloaded their equipment from the plane. A large van had generously been provided, and it was into this their cargo went, for the trip into Paris. Piedra joined them just as they finished, looking even more harassed then she had on the plane.

"Garnier's closed to the public for the next couple of days," she told them as the team boarded the van. The managers apparently weren't coming with; they'd all climbed into a plush looking sedan and departed at high speed. "They want us in and out as soon as possible--apparently this is a big inconvenience for them." The tone of her voice made it clear that she now knew intimately just how much of an inconvenience it was, and regretted the information.

"It sounds straightforward enough," Marble remarked with a shrug. "Go in, find our ghost, get rid of it, get out. What could go wrong?" At that, Piedra groaned and Granite dropped his head into his hands before fixing the young agent with a hard stare. Marble looked between both of them and then, with entreaty, at Abe. "What'd I say?"

"You said the worst thing there is to say when you want a mission to be routine," Abe told her soberly. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "'What could go wrong', indeed?"

* * *

The Palais Garnier was every bit as impressive as Abe had expected it to be, but he had no opportunity to linger, as he much longed to. Even though the building had been cleared of all public and most of the staff, they were still hustled through the upper levels and into the basements below the building. Monsieur Beauvais, one of the three managers, led them as far as the third basement, but refused to go any farther. 

"I am a superstitious man," he explained, through Agent Piedra. "I don't want to anger the ghost any more that it's already been angered. So I'll just stay up here...where it's safe."

Well, it wasn't like they could fault him. After all, it was their job to deal with this, not his. So he gave Piedra detailed directions on getting down into the fifth basement, and they left him. It was actually easier going with him gone; Abe didn't even have to be in contact with the man to read the waves of dislike and unease that had radiated off him. It was very nice to be out of his company.

The directions were good, and they found their way easily enough to the fabled lake under the Opera house. The BPRD agents began to unload the equipment, breaking out the flashlights first, so as to get a little illumination. The electric lighting around the lake was weak, at best, but they'd anticipated that, and had brought some of the Bureau's most high-powered portables. While Abe divested himself of the clumsy gear that let him remain for so long above water, Agent Granite began to investigate the sloping shore of the underground lake, looking for a clue as to what they might be dealing with.

His deceptively casual remark of, "Huh. This is strange," had all of them gathering where he stood. He knelt, pointing out long, shallow scrapes in the layer of muddy silt that had gathered at the waterline. "What do you make of these?"

"I dunno," Piedra muttered. "It looks like something got dragged through the muck there. Has anyone been down here lately, you think?"

"It's not that," Abe said quietly. "I'd know." If anything had happened recently enough that the water hadn't obliterated the marks in the mud, he'd feel it. Mental echoes of horrible death-by-drowning tended to linger in a place. Since he wasn't picking any up, nothing like that had happened. Recently.

"They look like the tracks my dad's rowboat leaves when we push it into the water," Marble remarked. Both Piedra and Granite looked at him strangely. "What?" he demanded defensively. "Just because _we're_ here doesn't mean there isn't a mundane explanation!"

"...Good point," Piedra acknowledged wryly. "So there might be a boat out there."

"I don't like that," Abe said, returning to the equipment cases. "A boat could mean that people are involved, and that's bound to turn messy." He packed away his out-of-water gear and turned to the other agents. "There's only one way to find out for sure." He smiled wryly at them and waded into the lake.

The water was cold, but that was to be expected. He didn't like it, but it certainly didn't stop him from diving in as soon as it was deep enough; he was so much more comfortable underwater than he was on land, even with the equipment that helped him breathe.

For a very short moment, Abe allowed himself to forget the mission and just revel in being submerged again. That moment over, he returned to business, switching on a hand light and stroking farther out into the lake. The waters were still and quiet, disturbed only occasionally by condensation dropping from the ceiling or a fish swimming by. He didn't _see_ anything out of the ordinary...yet.

There was no denying that something had happened in this lake, though. People had _died_ here, even if none had in the immediate past. He could feel their last moments, whispering horror and agony about the back of his mind. The impressions were dim, faded, like old photographs, but undeniable nevertheless. It was unsettling.

His hand-light's beam picked out something unusual on the floor of the lake, and he drifted down cautiously for a better look. Whatever it was he'd been expecting, it certainly wasn't the series of crude doodles in the silt on the floor of the lake that he found. He examined them closely, but couldn't really make heads or tails of the succession of stick figures. They were, after all, stick figures, and by virtue of that alone not particularly unique.

Abe crouched on the floor of the lake and pressed one hand into the mud, disrupting the edge of what looked sort of like a cat. He opened his mind to whatever impressions there were in the drawings. What came to him rocked him like a physical blow; the clearest and strongest emotion radiating out of the stick gallery was...loneliness. He jerked his hand back, confused.

Abe kicked for the surface. _The others should know about this,_ he thought. He broke the surface of water, looking around to orient himself with respect to the shore, and was rather worried to find that he could no longer see the rest of the team--he'd penetrated farther into the labyrinth than he'd originally thought.

He'd also found that boat that made the strange tracks in the mud**  
**

* * *

**Author's Notes: **The next chapter is already completed and should be up in about a week. All feedback is welcomed; let me know what you thought! Thank you! 


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Abe Sapien and the Case of the Sub-Opera Siren  
**Rating:** T, for some language and some violence. 

**Summary:** The BPRD is called in to investigate attempted drownings in the lake under the Palais Garnier in Paris, and who better for a mission in a lake than Abe Sapien. But things are not entirely as they seem, and Abe is going to have to deal with something he never expected in the underground lake.

**Disclaimer:** All original _Hellboy_ material belongs to Mike Mignola, though this particular version is Guillermo del Toro's as well. Gaston Leroux wrote _The Phantom of the Opera_, and so technically the Siren is his, though this version of her is respectfully borrowed from my friend Stef.

**Author's Notes:** All right, here's part two. The plot thickens! Enjoy!

* * *

It was tied to a tiny stone spit that extended into the lake, a bare excuse for a dock with just enough room for two or three people to stand at once. Just beyond, he could make out the shape of a door, set straight into the stone of the Opera house's foundations.

A chill danced a quick step up his spine. There was absolutely no logical reason for a door to be there, and so his mind immediately jumped to the illogical. _The others should_ definitely _know about this,_ he told himself, dropping back underwater. He didn't get very far. Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement, something coming at him from below and behind. Before he could even turn to get a good look he was struck, tackled around the midsection and driven into one of the columnar supports by his assailant.

Such complete contact opened her mind to him--and she _was_ a 'her', a sentient female entity with a distinctly realized self-image. A flood of memories and thoughts swamped him, disorienting him so much that it took him a moment to realize that she was grinning exuberantly and with no malice at all at him.

"Hello!" she chirped, as soon as she knew she had his attention.

"Let go of me, please," he requested. She did, and the relief was exquisite. No longer in contact with her, he had the option to close his mind against the psychic onslaught.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, looking honestly abashed. "Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to you so hard!" She smiled self-consciously. "I was excited, see," she said, though whether she meant it in explanation or apology (or both) he didn't know.

"Yes, so I gathered," he said drily, pushing away from the stone column. Keeping one wary eye on her, he flexed his arms and shoulders experimentally. Nothing seemed badly injured, but he would be sore tomorrow, he suspected. He was silent for a moment, examining her just as surely as she was examining him, and had to admit that she was the last thing he had expected to find down here when he'd first been handed the mission dossier. In fact, she was something he'd never expected to see...ever.

Her skin was blue, bluer than his own, if not so richly patterned; her hair was green. She drifted in the lake, completely at ease under the water. He had no doubt that it was her natural element, just as it was his.

"You don't seem the type to...drown people," he remarked casually.

She tensed visibly at that comment and shot him a speculative, suspicious look. "It's my job," she informed him haughtily, lifting her chin a little. "Besides, I don't _drown_ anybody. That would be cruel! I just...dunk 'em. Scares 'em away."

"From what?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"It's Erik's home, isn't it?" he asked her, being very careful to keep his query neutral. He had no qualms about drawing the conclusion. Wasn't he talking to a blue-skinned girl who'd just confessed to acting as a guardian, in a lake under an Opera house in France, not twenty feet away from a door in a wall that shouldn't have been there? A narrower mind would have convoluted reasoning any way possible to avoid the connection; he made it willingly.

The shocked expression on her face was all he needed to see. He'd guessed correctly, and she hadn't expected it. "Surely Erik's dead by now, though," he continued cautiously. (If she was still guarding the Opera Ghost's lair after all this time, there was a chance she'd react badly to the suggestion.)

Instead, she turned away from him, tiny movements of her legs and feet surreptitiously widening the gap between them. "He is," she acknowledged, but he noticed that her voice was soft and even, emotionless. "Many years dead, in fact." He saw her shoulders slump, and waited, hoping she would elaborate. She disappointed him, though; when she turned back to him with an abrupt movement that had water eddying away in little whirls, it was to ask, "So who _are_ you? What brings you to my humble lake?"

"I'm just here to stop whoever's been trying to drown people," he said, spreading his hands in an innocent gesture.

"I _told_ you, that's my job!" she exclaimed, punctuating it with a kick that propelled her backwards so far she nearly bumped into the curving wall that bounded the lake. She crossed her arms huffily over her chest and turned her face pointedly away, refusing to look at him.

"But if Erik's dead..." he started, "well. Why do you still have to do it?"

"I am the Siren," she told him firmly. "It's in my contract."

"You're contracted to protect an empty house?" he asked skeptically.

"No," she corrected. "I'm contracted to protect Erik and his home until he releases me from the duty. Since he hasn't..." She trailed off. The expression on her face dared him to press the issue farther. Wisely, he didn't. "You know, I still don't know who _you_ are," she pointed out when she was convinced he wasn't going to pry farther, "but you do know who I am. That's not fair."

"I beg your pardon, Siren," he said with pointed cordiality. "My name's Abe, and...it has been my pleasure to meet you." He meant it, too.

She beamed at him, her friendly mood restored. He smiled in response, but was more reserved about it. Even if she wasn't a demon or malevolent spirit, they couldn't just leave her down here, especially since she'd made it clear that she felt the need to keep defending the lake and the house on it. People _had_ died, even if she hadn't meant for them to, and it couldn't be allowed to continue.

The key to the whole issue seemed to be this contract. But how do you get a dead man to release his siren?

Abe glanced speculatively at her, and noticed that she wore an intense look of concentration on her face. It wasn't directed at him, though, and following the line of her sight he found that she was looking at the bottom of the rowboat. From down here, it was just a thin, dark oval against the surface of the lake, limned along one edge in silver by the reflection of his hand-light's beam. He shined the beam fully on it, and the Siren started.

"Yours?" she asked.

"Not mine. Why would I need a boat?"

"Good point." She looked at it again. "I think you may have to excuse me for just a moment," she told him cheerfully. "There are some trespassers I need to evict."

Before he could even respond, she'd kicked strongly for the surface. He followed, watched as she swung herself effortlessly up onto the dock. More awkwardly, he pulled himself up behind her, and she had a distracted smile for him when she saw he was joining her. She opened the front door and stepped inside, heedless of the lake water that she trailed in after her.

Just inside the doorway, the Siren stopped and stared.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **The next and final chapter should be up next week, like last time. Thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter–I never would have expected four reviews, and I'm grateful for them all!

(And yes, epalladino, I have read the original comics, and some of the BPRD ones as well! I find the out-of-water gear awkward myself, but I wanted to try and keep close to movie canon (which is also why all my agents have stone-related names).)

Thank you for reading, and as last time, all feedback is welcomed!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Abe Sapien and the Case of the Sub-Opera Siren  
**Rating:** T, for some language and some violence.

**Summary:** The BPRD is called in to investigate attempted drownings in the lake under the Palais Garnier in Paris, and who better for a mission in a lake than Abe Sapien. But things are not entirely as they seem, and Abe is going to have to deal with something he never expected in the underground lake.

**Disclaimer:** All original Hellboy material belongs to Mike Mignola, though this particular version is Guillermo del Toro's as well. Gaston Leroux wrote The Phantom of the Opera, and so technically the Siren is his, though this version of her is respectfully borrowed from my friend Stef.

**Author's Notes:** And the Grand Finale! Who's in the Phantom's Lair? Will Abe figure out how to free the Siren? Find out now! Enjoy!

* * *

A space had been cleared in the debris and dirt that cluttered the rest of the room, and an elaborate design inscribed on the floor with white and red chalk. Three people sat within it, each equidistant from the other two and all three cross-legged on the floor. Two were girls and the third was a boy; they were young, but the deep shadows cast by the candles clustered around and among them delineated their faces ruggedly and gave the false impression of age. One of the girls, shorter than the other and distinguished by red-streaked brown hair, was reading in a precise voice from a book open on her lap. 

Just as the Siren entered she closed the book and looked to the boy on her right. She nodded once and he began to speak, either extemporaneously or from memory, though he did it in French. If he had noticed Abe and the Siren's sudden intrusion, he didn't show it in any way; his voice was even and his tone solemn as he said his part.

Abe realized what it was they were trying to do, and when the Siren bunched her hands into fists and took a first step towards them, he grabbed her arm and held her back. Since he'd initiated contact, he was able to divert most of the waves of thoughts and impressions that assaulted him, but he still released her as soon as he was sure she wasn't going to go charging in. She glared at him, and he shook his head warningly.

"Let them work," he whispered

"What?!" she hissed, incredulous. She looked scandalized by the notion alone that she allow these transgressors to go unpunished.

"Trust me," he urged. "Let them finish." He didn't offer any further explanation, and matched her unbelieving gaze evenly, refusing to look away. Finally, she looked away with a shrug, breaking eye contact.

"Fine," she said in a whisper so soft as to be almost inaudible. "But if the try _any_thing..." She let the implied threat trail off and crossed her arms belligerently over her chest. Together, hey returned their attention to the spectacle at the center of the room.

The boy was still speaking, and after maybe thirty seconds more he stopped. This time he nodded, and the second girl (this one with long hair and wearing a pair of glasses), began to read off something in her lap. Abe recognized Latin, and it was Latin they continued in when she had finished and all three began to chant in unison. He had run across enough of the language in his reading to understand the gist of what they were saying, and knew his initial interpretation of the situation was correct. The three of them were trying to summon the spirit of the Opera Ghost. Frankly, it wasn't all that likely they would succeed, but if they did, it would allow a neat solution to the problem with the Siren (as well as saving Agent Marble and Agent Granite a lot of hassle).

The trio fell silent, and all three looked expectantly at the open air in the center of their inscription. Their anticipation was shared by Abe and the Siren, who were just as interested, if not more so, in the results of the ritual. Seconds ticked by, stretching into minutes, and each one that passed seemed interminable. The Siren was getting impatient with waiting--he could feel it. Finally, she turned to him with a wicked little grin.

"Nothing's happened!" she announced in a sing-song voice, as if he couldn't see it for himself. "If you don't mind, _monsieur_, I'm going to be throwing them--"

_"What do you want?"_

The voice that interrupted her was one of breathtaking beauty, despite the fact that it was distorted with echo and colored with irritation. Its owner spoke in impeccable English, but it was English undeniably flavored with a French accent. Currently in the process of materializing in the chalk design was a tall, thin shade, cloaked entirely in black. Though its back was to the watchers in the doorway, there was no question of who it was.

"Erik!" the Siren squealed joyfully, launching herself across the room. The girl with the streaked hair and the boy whipped about at her shout and, seeing her coming, threw themselves out of the way. She sprung at the shade, clearly intending to deliver a high-velocity-hug--and promptly sailed right through. The girl with the glasses received the hug instead; the Siren's impact with her slammed both of them to the floor and knocked the glasses askew.

"Sorry," the Siren apologized sheepishly, picking herself up with some alacrity.

The girl groaned, but sat upright anyway, managing half a smile in response. She readjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose and said fervently, "I knew you were real!". The Siren didn't hear, though; she was already on her feet and facing the ghost of Erik.

_"Siren?"_ Erik was confused; it sounded clearly in his voice. _"What are you doing here?"_

"Oh, I still live here," she said airily, waving one hand dismissively in the air. "I've missed you so much! What's it like on the other side? You've gotta tell me!"

Erik hesitated, and then dodged her question by returning to the subject she'd so neatly evaded. _"Why, Siren? Why remain?"_

"Well, I can't leave," she explained with a strained offhandedness. "Remember that contract you had me sign...?"

_"Oh."_ Total comprehension was clear in the ethereal echo of his voice. He stepped closer to her and reached out as if he was going to take her by the shoulders. His hands went right through and fell to his sides, clenching with impotent frustration. _"Siren, your work for me is completed,"_ he told her firmly. _"I release you from your contract."_ He paused, and then raised his elegant hands again, spreading them in the air in front of him with the palms up. _"You're free."_

The smile on her face when she heard those words was breathtaking.

* * *

"So what are you going to do now?" Abe asked the Siren. They stood together on the shore of the lake, both staring contemplatively out over its dark surface. Not too far away, Agent Piedra was talking to the three kids in a low, intense voice. He couldn't hear exactly what she was saying, but he had an idea. They were lucky to have escaped so unscathed, and she was probably telling them that. Amateur occultists like them tended to screw up badly far more often than they succeeded; he and Hellboy had certainly mopped up enough innocent-seances-gone-wrong to know just how badly it could go. 

He looked over at the Siren in time to catch her equitable shrug. "I don't know," she admitted. "I used to daydream about it all the time, about what I would do and where I would go when my time was my own again. Now that I can actually leave...I just don't know."

Indecision radiated off her, and he could certainly sympathize. She'd lived down here for over a hundred years; he'd have been reluctant to leave too, if he'd been in her situation.

"What's going to happen to them?" she asked suddenly, gesturing vaguely at Piedra and the kids.

"She'll give them an idea of what they could have done," he told her, turning himself to regard them. "Tell them a horror story or two to really hit home the fact that what they did was dangerous, and send them on their way."

"Good," she said. "They let me say goodbye to Erik. I don't want them to get in trouble."

"They won't," he assured her. In fact, the BPRD was always on the lookout for competent, reliable agents, especially ones who were intrinsically comfortable with the supernatural. It was very likely that Piedra would be dropping some names on Tom Manning's desk when they returned to the Bureau.

The Siren knelt on the lake's shore, sifting the tiny waves stirred up by all their recent activity through her fingers. He left her to her reflections; she would need some time to sort it out for herself. He joined Marble and Granite in packing up the equipment they'd hauled down, ultimately for no reason. It took nearly half an hour, and even after they were done, she was still there, still silent.

"Make up your mind?" he asked gently from just behind her, even though he could clearly tell she hadn't. She stood up quickly, looking as embarrassed as if she'd been caught doing something illicit. She shrugged, but didn't have anything to say.

"There's always room at the BPRD," he suggested earnestly, "_if_ you're interested."

"Really?!" she exclaimed, her entire face lighting up. "That would be so awesome!" For an instant, it looked like she would hug him in her exuberance, but she refrained (much to his relief).

He steeled his mind and took her hand, leading her courteously over to his fellow agents. "And to think," he started, grinning wryly at her, "all you have to do to earn room and board is help us save the world once in a while!"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** So there we have it—the end of "Abe Sapien and the Case of the Sub-Opera Siren". What did everyone think? Would you be interested in seeing more of the Siren? 

Thanks to Helena Valentine for reviewing, and I'm glad you think so highly of the Siren! She's not really mine, though; I borrowed her with permission from my friend Stef (MetaChi on this site). Hope you liked the ending!

Thank you everyone for reading, and as last time, all feedback is welcomed!


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